Chương 107: Thunderclap

The marketplace processed my search parameters for a few seconds. Soft blue lights rippled across the floating interface. I stood there patiently. Well. Patiently on the outside. Inside, my brain was already test-driving revolvers I couldn't afford. A fresh notification suddenly appeared. [Apologies.] [Equipment possessing highly desirable bonus effects such as Bonus Damage experiences exceptionally high market demand.] [Based on current listings, a budget of approximately 500 gold coins will likely be insufficient.] I stared at the message. The message stared back. Neither of us blinked.

"... What?" That was it. That was my entire response. A single word. Because sometimes language simply gives up. I looked at my gold counter. Five hundred and five gold. A number that had seemed enormous roughly thirty seconds ago. Now? Apparently I was one rejected shopping trip away from being poor again. Amazing. I had climbed all the way up the economic ladder only to discover there was another ladder sitting on top of that ladder. And another one above that. And probably a dragon charging rent at the top.

I pointed accusingly at the interface.

"You're telling me five hundred gold isn't enough?" The system remained silent. As expected. Machines never cared about emotional damage. Then my gaze slowly drifted toward Aiko. Specifically toward the massive greatsword resting on her back. That glorious oversized slab of metal. The one that happened to possess a bonus damage effect. The same bonus damage effect that the marketplace had just informed me was apparently priced somewhere between expensive and organ donation. Aiko immediately stiffened.

The reaction was subtle. Tiny. Almost invisible. But I caught it. Her shoulders tightened ever so slightly. Like a rabbit sensing a hawk overhead. Slowly. Very slowly. I narrowed my eyes. Aiko continued looking anywhere except in my direction. Interesting. Very interesting. She knew exactly why I was looking at her. The guilty energy was radiating off her hard enough to power a small village. I folded my arms. My thoughts immediately wandered toward a mystery that had been bothering me for a while.

Aiko had spent three months surviving on Floor One. Three months. And somehow she had managed to obtain equipment that was apparently far beyond what my freshly acquired fortune could comfortably purchase. The truly confusing part? She hadn't even focused on combat-related quests. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. At least not from everything I'd heard. Which meant there was a giant missing piece somewhere. I stared at her sword. Then at Aiko.

Then back at the sword. My brain immediately started constructing increasingly ridiculous theories. Maybe she'd accidentally discovered some hidden quest chain. Maybe she'd become friends with a wealthy merchant. Maybe she'd spent three months secretly operating an underground financial empire. Honestly, none of those sounded any less believable than the reality I was currently looking at. Aiko continued avoiding eye contact with the dedication of someone attempting to become invisible through sheer willpower.

Very suspicious. Adorably suspicious. But suspicious. Eventually I sighed. There was no point dwelling on it. Whatever Aiko had done during those three months was clearly a story for another day. Right now I had a much more immediate problem. Namely the marketplace informing me that my wallet was significantly less impressive than I'd imagined. I turned back toward the floating interface.

"Fine." I threw both hands into the air.

"You win." The marketplace remained completely indifferent. Naturally. I pointed at the search menu.

"Forget the bonus damage dream." A small part of my soul quietly lowered a flag to half-mast.

"We had a good run." I nodded solemnly.

"About twenty seconds." Then I waved toward the interface.

"Just show me whatever fits my budget." My shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug.

"It's not like I'm swimming in options here." I glanced at my gold total again.

"I've got enough money to buy gear." I pointed at the marketplace.

"Apparently not enough money to be picky about gear." A tragic distinction. The system immediately accepted my revised request. The glowing interface shifted. Rows of information disappeared. New calculations began. A small notification appeared in the center of the screen. [Searching.] [Please wait.] The marketplace continued processing my request. Blue symbols flickered across the floating interface like a team of overworked magical interns desperately digging through an enormous database. I waited.

The screen glowed. The anticipation grew. Honestly, shopping for gear in this world felt dangerously similar to scrolling through online stores at three in the morning. You started with a clear budget. A clear goal. A clear plan. Then twenty minutes later you somehow found yourself looking at things you absolutely didn't need while convincing yourself they were essential for survival. The marketplace finally finished thinking. A notification appeared. [Search Complete.] The floating display immediately expanded.

Rows of weapon listings unfolded across the screen one after another. Names. Prices. Stats. Descriptions. Requirements. Enough information to make my eyes cross if I stared too long. I leaned forward.

"Oh, now we're talking." My earlier disappointment immediately evaporated. Sure, five hundred gold apparently wasn't enough to buy one of those fancy bonus-damage revolvers everybody was fighting over. But that didn't mean the available options were bad. Far from it. The weapons displayed before me still looked incredible. Polished steel. Intricate engravings. Elegant frames. Some looked like military sidearms.

Others looked like they belonged in the hands of bounty hunters, duelists, or people who solved their problems through aggressive negotiations. Honestly, every single one looked significantly cooler than the revolver currently sitting in my inventory. Which wasn't exactly difficult. My current weapon had all the visual appeal of a tool somebody found at the bottom of a discount bin. It worked. Mostly. But nobody was putting it in a museum. I slowly scrolled through the listings.

My eyes moved from one weapon to another. Price tags floated beside each listing. The expensive ones clustered near the top. Naturally. Apparently even magical shopping boards understood the universal law of showing you things you couldn't comfortably afford. Cruel. Very cruel. I kept scrolling. Past revolvers I could maybe buy. Past revolvers I definitely shouldn't buy. Past revolvers that looked like they came bundled with financial regret. Then my gaze suddenly stopped.

"Oh?" The word slipped out before I could stop it. Something had caught my attention. One particular revolver sat near the very bottom of the marketplace results. Not the middle. Not slightly below average. The bottom. The absolute basement level of marketplace popularity. The lonely corner where forgotten listings went to contemplate their life choices. I narrowed my eyes. That immediately made it interesting. Because players were greedy. Players loved strong equipment.

If something ended up this low on the demand rankings, there was usually a reason. Sometimes it was a terrible reason. Sometimes it was a brilliant reason. And sometimes everyone else was simply overlooking something useful. The revolver's image rotated slowly within the listing window. I studied it carefully. It was gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous that made absolutely no sense considering its apparent lack of popularity. Its frame looked sleek and refined. The craftsmanship appeared excellent.

The silhouette immediately stood out from the other weapons surrounding it. It possessed character. Presence. The kind of weapon that looked like it belonged to someone important rather than sitting forgotten in an online marketplace. Which only made the situation stranger. I tilted my head.

"Huh." The deeper I looked, the less sense it made. Most low-demand listings looked mediocre. This one didn't. This one looked like it had accidentally wandered into the wrong neighborhood. Like a luxury sports car parked in front of a garage sale. I glanced at its ranking again. Still near the bottom. Still almost ignored. Still sitting there waiting. The seller had practically shoved it onto the marketplace and walked away. At least that's what it felt like.

The listing carried the same energy as someone standing on a street corner holding a sign that read: Please take this thing. I am tired of looking at it. Now my curiosity was fully activated. Which was dangerous. Curiosity had a long history of leading me directly into trouble. I leaned closer to the floating screen. The blue light reflected across my eyes as the marketplace listing expanded. Slowly. Carefully. I opened the weapon's detailed information.

••••• Name: Thunderclap Type: Revolver Tier: 1 Level Requirement: 1 Stats: +4 Intelligence, +3 Strength, +3 Agility Quality: Standard Refinement: 0/10 Special Effect: Lightning's Aim - Increases Accuracy by 10%. Description: A finely crafted revolver known for its commanding presence and dependable performance. Forged from hardened blacksteel, its frame bears a dark metallic sheen that gives the weapon a serious, battle-ready appearance.

The barrel is slightly thicker than those found on common revolvers, improving stability while lending the firearm a powerful silhouette. Delicate silver engravings resembling branching lightning run across the frame and cylinder, guiding the eye toward the weapon's precision-machined mechanisms and symbolizing the swift calculation and focus required of an expert marksman.

The six-chamber cylinder is reinforced with polished steel bands that provide both durability and a refined aesthetic, while the grip is carved from deep crimson hardwood and wrapped with strips of drakehide to ensure a firm hold during rapid firing. Positioned above the hammer is a small steel emblem depicting a thundercloud pierced by a lightning bolt, the mark that inspired the revolver's name.

Every aspect of Thunderclap balances elegance and practicality, creating a firearm that looks as formidable as the sharp crack of its shots sounds. •••••